Back Up
by adelaidybug
Summary: Steve and Claudia are on a mission when Claudia runs into something she was not expecting. Trigger Warning for abuse.
1. Part I

_Come on, just hold on. You just gotta hold on._

Claudia clutched at the sink to keep herself from sinking to the floor. She was gulping for air, and black spots were swirling in her vision. Once she had steadied herself a bit, she fumbled through her bag until she found her Farnsworth, and then called Steve.

"Hey Claude, how's it going?"

"I need back up." She said breathlessly, feeling nauseous.

"What's up? Are you okay?"

"Please just- just get here now." Her voice cracked, but she refused to allow herself to fall apart. _Not now. Not yet. Just hold on till you get out of here._

"Where are you?"

"There's a bathroom in the back of the bar where I was questioning people."

"Okay. I'll be there in five. Claude?

"Yah?"

"Hang in there." he hung up. Claudia turned and leaned against the wall, but her legs refused to support her, and she slid down to the floor. She wrapped her arms around her knees and began to lose herself to old memories when a knock sounded at the door. She jumped.

"Who's there?" Claudia's voice was raw and dangerous.

"It's Steve."

She stood up, feeling shaky, and fumbled with the lock, finally undoing it and opening the door.

"Claudia, are you okay?" his face had concern written all over it.

She didn't say anything, but latched her arms around him tightly. Hanging onto something was all she could do. She couldn't let go or she'd lose it. Steve stepped inside the bathroom and let the door shut behind him, hugging her tightly. She was hyperventilating, but couldn't calm herself.

"It's okay, Claude. It's okay." Steve murmured over and over quietly into her hair, not knowing what was supposed to be okay, or if it was actually okay.

"Can't... breathe..." Claudia said between short gulps of air.

"Hey," he said, detaching himself from her and tipping her chin up."Breathe for me. Okay? You gotta breathe."

Claudia continued to gasp, and things became blurry.

"Breathe with me." he said, pulling her back into his chest, where she could feel him slowly inhaling. "Inhale." she tried to do it along with him, but took about seven breaths to his one. "Exhale." he said, breathing out slowly. They stood there for several minutes, and finally Claudia's hyperventilating gave way to a sob. More followed-not delicate or quiet, but big and loud and violent. He held her close for a long time. Finally, Steve pulled away and looked at her again. "What happened, Claudia? Are you okay?"

Tears were rolling down her abnormally pale cheeks. "I uh- ran into... one of my old foster fathers." She said in chunks, between her tears.

"Did he hurt you, Claudia? Please just tell me if you're okay."

"I'm not hurt. He uh... he didn't see me." she hiccuped.

"Okay. Okay. Do you want to get out of here?"

She nodded. "But he might still be out there." she said, eyes widening and clinging onto him tighter.

"It's okay, Claude. I won't let him hurt you."

"Okay," she said shakily, picking up her bag from the floor. He put his arm protectively around her as they exited the bathroom. She looked around, and relaxed a bit when she realized the man had left. They walked out to Steve's Prius, and got inside, but Steve didn't turn the key.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, glancing at her in concern.

"That- that guy... He wasn't really the hugs and love kind of dad."

"Did he... hurt you? You don't have to answer that if you don't want to." he said quickly.

"Yah." She paused, and took a breath. "He used to hit me... and... " she winced slightly "...stuff." Claudia shivered involuntarily. There was a long silence. Steve's jaw was clenched.

"Did you ever report him?"

She shook her head. "No, he threatened me that if I ever did... well, needless to say, I didn't."

"You know, you still could."

"No. I can't... I can't deal with all the memories again. I'll lose it if I do. And besides a few scars, there's no proof he did anything. Look, can we get out of here?" she looked around nervously.

"Sure." he started the car and they drove back to their hotel. When they arrived, she started to get out, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Claude?"

"Yah?" She was barely holding it together, and just wanted to get up to her room.

"If you ever want to talk about it... or anything... or if you just want to hang out and not talk, or-"

"Thanks Steve. I appreciate it. Maybe I'll take you up on that sometime." She said with a half smile, then quickly made her way to her hotel room.

* * *

_**Well, what do you think? I will most definitely be adding more to this, but am very open to suggestions, so please review and let me know what you thought and if you have any ideas! Thanks for reading.**_


	2. Part II

_**This is set that night in the hotel. Thank you all for reading and please review and share with me your ideas! **_

_**Trigger warning for abuse, please don't read if this will trigger you.**_

* * *

Steve awoke in the middle of the night to pounding on his door. Slightly disoriented, he made his way around the strange furniture of his hotel room and looked through the peep hole. Claudia was outside, ghastly white, making a face which told him she was about two seconds away from a meltdown. He quickly unchained the door and opened it.

"What's up?" Steve asked, his light blue eyes trying to meet her brown downcast ones.

"Oh nothing much. Just out for a midnight stroll." She said, trying to act casual. He gestured for her to come in, and she did, closing the door behind her.

"Nightmares?"

Tears welling up in her brown eyes, she nodded and threw her arms around him. He wrapped her tightly in his own arms, and put his chin on top of her head, which was buried in his chest.

"The usual, or...?"

"My foster father." She said, muffled by his shirt.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

There was a long pause, and she pulled away and looked at him, eyes bloodshot with deep purple circles underneath.

"When I lived with him and his wife... every night they'd get completely wasted." She paused. "And the lady would fall asleep but he-" an involuntary shiver made its way up her spine. "He'd stay up and um... hurt me.."

Steve shut his eyes and swallowed. The very idea that anyone would hurt his partner and friend made him murderously angry.

"I was dreaming about the night he gave me these." She lifted her shirt to reveal her side. Steve would have noticed how thinly her skin was stretched over ribs had it not been for the scars on her side he noticed first. She pointed to a series of circular scars, saying "cigarette burns."

He made a choking sound and hugged the girl again, tightly. "Is there anything I can do?" He asked softly.

"You're already doing it."

After a few minutes of silence, he noticed the girl was leaning heavily on him, becoming drowsy.

"Hey, let's get you to bed." He walked her back to her room, and said goodnight.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." She said in her tough girl voice. He turned to go, and she started to close the door, but just as he began to walk away, he heard a barely audible "Jinksy?"

"Yeah?" he turned back.

"Would you... Would you stay until I fall asleep?"

"Sure." He went inside and sat down in a chair across from the bed, and watched as his surrogate little sister drifted off to sleep.


	3. Part III

**This installment kind of wrote itself the other night. Thanks for reading and please review! **

**It's set the morning after the incident and the nightmares.**

* * *

Claudia and Steve met the next morning at a diner near their hotel for breakfast.

"Hey Claude, how did you sleep?" The girl looked so tired. Purple bags still hung under her eyes. She seemed withdrawn, her expression even more guarded than usual.

"Erm, okay..." She scraped an obscene amount of butter on her toast and stirred a third packet of sugar into her full coffee cup.

He raised his eyebrows, giving her a knowing look. "Just... had a few more nightmares." she admitted, letting herself slump over resting her head in her hand, elbow on the sticky plastic table.

He grimaced. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"So, I thought I'd go back to... that bar today. And you could stay here, or-"

"No, no way. We need to find this artifact before someone else dies like that poor lady yesterday. I'm coming to the bar too." She was now sitting up straight again, trying to prove herself capable of handling the day.

"Claude, this sounds like a bad idea..."

"No. I'm going. I'm not going to let my personal life get in the way of our job."

"Okay." he said slowly. He noticed the untouched food on her plate. "Are you going to eat?"

"Nah, I'm not hungry." She said, shoving away the still-full cup of coffee.

"You're not even going to caf' up?"

She gave him a look that told him not to press the issue.

* * *

They drove over to the bar later that day and began questioning people about the lady who had died the day before. Her name had been April. Apparently, she had frozen to death even though it had been 90 degrees outside. Steve was talking with the owner while Claudia talked with an old, fairly drunk woman who had known the victim.

"Honey, I need a smoke break." the lady said, and Claudia followed her outside as the woman lit up.

"So April never had anyone who was angry at her?"

"No... Everyone loved her. She made the best apple pie." The woman began to ramble.

"No angry lovers or anything?"

"No. As far as I know, she didn't have anyone who didn't like her. Look, I need to go." She turned abruptly and staggered off.

Claudia was about to walk back inside when she felt a heavy, warm hand on her arm and turned to find her former foster father.

Her heart dropped to her stomach and she couldn't breathe as her face paled to an ashy white.

"It _is _you." he said. His voice sounded the same, gravelly from too much smoking and alcohol and yelling. He still had the same unpleasant smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I want to talk. I've missed you." he said, tightening his grip on her arm.

Her heart was beating in her ears and her mouth was void of any moisture. She tried to swallow, tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth.

"So how have you been?"

Suddenly, she found herself being dragged off by him, down streets and through alleyways. She didn't know why she wasn't screaming. She was trying to squirm out of his grasp, but wasn't strong enough.

"Let go of my arm!" She finally managed. He didn't even glance back as he continued to pull her. "Let go of me now!" She yelled. "Help! Somebody help!" This got his attention. All of a sudden he swung around and grabbed her by the shoulders, throwing her against a wall. Her head made contact with the brick with a dull thud and things went dark.

* * *

Steve had finished talking with the owner of the bar when he realized Claudia hadn't come back inside. He walked quickly through the bar and out the door, searching for her. She was nowhere to be found.

"Claudia? Claudia!" He yelled her name frantically, but she didn't appear. Pulling out his Farnsworth, he called Artie.

"Yes?"

" Claudia's gone." he said, feeling sick. He should have been watching her. He should have been protecting her. This was all his fault.

"What? What happened?"

"She disappeared! I don't know where she is. Artie, I think she may have been kidnapped by her old foster father."

* * *

**So what did you think? Let me know in the reviews, and also if you have any ideas for the story! Thanks for reading.**


	4. Part IV

**Hey there. So this definitely isn't my finest work, but it was a really difficult scene to write. Apologies for the profanity, but it really couldn't be written without it. Also, TRIGGER WARNING for abuse. Don't read if you will be triggered!**

**By the way, I don't own any of Warehouse 13, _none. _Just this story.**

* * *

Claudia awoke with a pounding headache. She moaned and opened her eyes only to quickly sit up, realizing where she was. He had taken her back here. She was in the home where she had spent eight months of misery before finally running away. This was the dimly lit, smelly basement where she had spent so many nights being hurt. She couldn't get out of here by herself, she knew that much immediately. The door had a deadbolt. She began to shake. Flashbacks started to seep into the edges of her mind, and she desperately pushed them back. Checking her pockets, she realized Mr. Peterson had taken her phone and Farnsworth.

"Crap." she whispered, shuddering. The redhead put her hand to her throbbing head and found the side had begun to swell. "Crap crap crap." She didn't have any technology, or even her tesla. She was just as ill-equipped to defend herself against her foster dad as she had been years ago. Suddenly she remembered the self-defense training Pete and Myka had drilled into her during slow days at the Warehouse.

_It might just work. _

She didn't know when he would come back, or what he was planning, but she knew she had to prepare herself. Standing up from the dingy carpet, she began to practice the moves that might just save her.

Artie typed frantically on the computer. "Looks like her last foster parents were the Petersons in Altoona, Wisconsin. It's about an hour from where you are.

"What's the address?"

"Wait, Steve you need back up. Bring the police with you."

"Fine, okay. Just tell me the address!"

Artie rattled it off, and Steve hung up.

Claudia was practicing her drop-kick when she heard the lock rattling at the top of the stairs. Quickly, she layed down on the ground, where she had woken up, and pretended to be asleep. It would be better if he wasn't expecting a fight. She heard the door open, then shut and lock. The heavy, slow footsteps echoed down the stairs and Claudia's heart beat faster and faster. She felt his hand rest on her jeans-covered thigh, and she acted. Quickly, she sat up and jammed her hand into his neck with force. He staggered backward and she got up, but he grabbed her waist and pushed her to the floor on her stomach. She kicked at his legs, but he moved to clutch her by the arms in a way she couldn't wrench out of. The man pulled her up by her arms and pushed her to sit on a table.

"What are you thinking, you little idiot?" he yelled. "Did you really think you could fight me off?" She kicked him hard in the groin and pushed her knee into his stomach, getting up again and starting for the stairs, but he grabbed her arm and swung her around, his fist making contact with her stomach. She sank into the punch, groaning, then wrenched her wrist out of his grasp, but he countered by ramming his fist into the small of her back and she sank to the ground in pain. He kicked her a few times in the stomach.

"You're going to pay for what you did." he said, chuckling maniacally. His boot hit her face and Claudia saw stars. Things came back into focus and the man pulled Claudia to her feet. She swayed, and things got blurry again. Her nose was bleeding.

"Just let me go." she mumbled through the pain. He hit her in the stomach again and she groaned and staggered back. "You know kidnapping's a crime right? As soon as I get out of here you'll be going to jail. Might as well leave it there, not add anything to the list." The words came out before she realized what she was saying, and she closed her eyes, cursing inwardly.

"Oh, you really shouldn't have said that." He said, a terrifying sparkle in his eye.

"And why's that?" she asked, feigning courage.

"Cause now I'm going to have to kill you." he stepped toward her.

"There'll be evidence. There always is." she said quickly, voice raised.

"Not if I burn your body. And you'll be a hell of a lot less trouble to me dead than alive."

A terrifying coldness gripped Claudia. "You don't want to do this, Mr. Peterson."

"Oh, I really do. I've been wanting to do this since the moment your pathetic existence made its way into my life."

"I don't really get why you've always hated me so much. Or why you even took me in the first place." She wanted to keep him talking, but felt like she was going to pass out from the amount of pain she was experiencing.

"You know why I hate you so much?" He asked, leering. "Because you're a no good, crazy bitch who leeches on people's lives. You are a burden to everyone you know. The only reason I took you in the first place was because my wife wouldn't stop whining about wanting a daughter. No one really wants you, Claudia. No one could ever love you. I bet you don't have anyone who cares about you, do you?" His cold dark eyes peered at her, daring her to answer.

"As a matter of fact, I do." She said, chin up.

"Oh really?"

"Yep. My brother and my friends care about me a lot."

"Your brother?" he laughed unpleasantly. "You really are crazy." He slapped her in the face.

"I'm not crazy." She said defiantly.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her to the floor again, kicking her leg. She let out a cry of pain. "Now tell me your brother is dead."

"He's not dead." She said through gritted teeth.

"Yes he is, you little bitch. When will you learn to respect your elders?"

"I'm not a kid anymore, Mr. Peterson. This is a crime. It was back then, and it is now." He kicked her again in the ribs and she let out a dull moan.

"Shut up!" he yelled. Her eyes were closed and she was bracing herself for another kick when she heard his footsteps going up the stairs. She hoped he was going to leave her alone, but knew better. Curling up in a ball, she put her hands over her throbbing head and let out a few of the tears she had been fiercely holding in. It hurt to breathe, which made her cry harder and breathe faster, which made it hurt more. She began hyperventilating, little sobs going out with each breath. Hearing the door rattling, she became panicky. After a moment, she opened one eye to see Mr. Peterson coming at her with knife and started screaming. He lunged toward her and held the knife to her neck. She was spewing out incoherent babble in screams when she heard a voice yell, "Hank Peterson, drop your weapon NOW!" Several voices echoed the first, and there were footsteps and yelling, but Claudia wasn't paying attention anymore. She was crying hysterically, curled up in the fetal position and shaking, hands crossed defensively over her face and neck. She felt a hand on her shoulder and she screamed and pulled away.

"Claude?" Jinksy's voice sounded scared. "Claude, it's me. It's okay. It's all over. It's okay. It's okay."

* * *

**Well, what did you think? Please review!**


	5. Part V

**Hey guys, so his story has been writing itself, which is fun but also like "What the crap just happened? That wasn't what I was planning." So yeah, this chapter happened. Anyhow, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!**

**Trigger Warning for... um... Psychiatric distress and treatment? I guess.**

* * *

It was several minutes before she let her hands fall away from her bruised face and slowly opened her eyes. She was still crying and shaking, and found Steve kneeling in front of her, blue eyes searching hers.

"Claudia, are you okay?"

She shook her head. "N-nope. N-no I'm n-not." He put a hand on her shoulder, but she stiffened. "D-d-don't feel like being t-touched right now, J-Jinksy."

"Right. Sorry." he pulled his hand away and looked at her.

"Wh-where is he?"

"The police arrested him. He's on his way to jail."

"I...I..." She broke into fresh tears.

"Claudia, I am so sorry. " Steve said, tears filling his eyes.

"I-i-it's not your f-fault" she stammered.

"Yeah it is. I was supposed to be there for you and protect you but I didn't and he hurt you because I wasn't there when you needed me."

"S-S-Steve, as much as I want to f-finish this convers-s-sation, I d-don't f-feel very w-w-well."

"Right. We need to bring you in. Do you think you can stand?"

She slowly pushed herself to a sitting position, gritting her teeth against the pain in her ribs and the dark cloudiness that was pouring into her vision. "You're going to have to c-carry me." She mumbled before blacking out.

"Claudia!" He caught her back as she fell limp and slipped his hand under her arm, putting the other under her knees and carried her to his car. He set her in the back seat carefully, noticing with concern how light she was, then sped to the hospital, nearly causing several traffic accidents. When they arrived, Claudia was awake and had started shaking again. Steve didn't know what to do or if there was anything he _could _do.

"Oww." She moaned.

"What hurts, Claude?"

"M-my s-sstomach and hhhead. He k-kicked me p-p-pretty hard."

"That _bastard._"

"It c-could've been s-so much w-worse, Jinksy." She began to cry again in short shaky sobs, closing her eyes and biting her lip.

"Hey, hey just breathe Claudia." He said soothingly. He picked her up bridal style and carried her into the hospital. She clung to his neck.

"I d-don't like hospitals." She whispered to him shakily.

"It's okay. I'm right here. I won't leave you.

They checked in, and since Claudia had a head injury they were able to forego the usual wait. A nurse brought them to a curtained-off section in the ER, and Steve laid her carefully on the bed.

"Hi, I'm Cindy. Now Miss Donovan, can you tell me what happened today?" The nurse asked.

"It's uh... K-kKind of a l-long s-s-story. Damnit, why c-can't I s-stop st-st-stuttering" She spat out, finally.

"I like long stories. And don't worry, it's common after trauma to have some stuttering. It'll go away." The nurse said, smiling gently. She reminded Claudia of Leena, which made her 100X more comfortable.

She told the woman about being kidnapped and all the physical injuries she sustained, stuttering through the words and often pausing for a restrained sob.

"That had to have been terrifying." The nurse said solemnly.

Claudia nodded.

"I'm going to get the doctor. Is there anything you need?"

She shook her head.

Steve stood beside Claudia and held her hand. Soon, the doctor came in and asked her a few questions. Steve noticed that for the first time since he had rescued her, she had on her guarded expression, tears now gone.

"Is it okay if I examine you now?" He asked.

The girl nodded, exhaling shakily. The doctor took a look at the goose egg on her head and her bruised face. He said her nose was broken and would need realignment. Next, he asked her to lift up her shirt and he looked at the boot marks and beginnings of nasty bruises on her stomach. He said her ribs looked a bit odd and they would need an x-ray to see if any were broken. Steve noticed once again how skinny Claudia was, and made a mental note to be sure she was eating enough.

Claudia stayed strong throughout all the tests and questions, though Steve knew she was not okay. The X-ray showed two cracked ribs, and further tests assured there hadn't been any serious damage to her organs.

After she had been given some pain meds, the medical staff left her alone for a while, and Steve spoke up.

"How are you holding up?" He laced his fingers through hers and noticed she was still shaking.

"I'm f-fine." She said quickly.

"No you're not."

"L-look, I d-don't want t-to d-do th-th-this h-here."

"Okay." He squeezed her hand. "But Claude, it's okay that you're not okay. You shouldn't be okay."

She stayed silent for a moment, staring at him. "G-good, 'c-cause I'm n-not."

After 20 minutes of silence, Claudia fell asleep, still clutching Steve's hand tightly. Soon, a new doctor came in.

"Hello." There was something about him Steve immediately didn't like.

"Claude, wake up. There's a doctor here."

Claudia slowly opened her eyes, then froze, mouth slightly open and squeezing Steve's hand so tightly he thought it would break.

"Hello Claudia." The man said. It was then that Steve noticed his name tag. It said "Dr. Michener, MD."

"What are you doing here?" Claudia asked in a shaky voice. Her stutter was gone.

"I work here now. How have you been?"

"You need to leave." She said firmly, though she felt as if her heart was in her throat.

"It's okay, Claudia. I just need to ask you some questions."

"No, you need to leave." She said, voice rising.

"Calm down," he said, taking a step toward her.

"No, stay away from me!" She yelled, recoiling.

"Claudia..." he reached toward her. She hopped off the bed and stepped so that Steve was half in front of her. She was breathing quickly and looked like a wounded animal.

"Hey, you need to back off." Steve ordered.

"Claudia, get back in bed, you're not well." The doctor ignored Steve and tried to reach around him. At this, Claudia screamed and ran through the curtain and away. Steve and the doctor ran after her, weaving through other patients' curtained off beds, down a corridor and through a door into the boiler room. Steve found her cowering in the corner, crying and hyperventilating.

"Calm down, my dear." The doctor said, walking toward her.

"Look pal, you need to-" he was cut off by Claudia.

"No! No! Stay away from me! Get away! Help!" She was becoming increasingly agitated and Steve had no idea what to do.

"Hey," he said, stepping between Dr Michener and Claudia. "You need to back off. You're making her even more scared."

The doctor finally listened and left, and soon two female medical staff came in. Claudia was pressed into the corner, screaming hysterically.

"Sir, we're going to need to give her a tranquilizer to calm her down."

"I don't know if that's a good idea." He said, but they had already pushed past him.

"No! No! I don't want it!" Claudia's screams sent chills down Steve's spine. One of the nurses held her while the other sank a syringe into her arm. She screamed for a few more seconds before collapsing.

Claudia drowsily fluttered her eyelids. She wasn't sure how long she had been asleep, but definitely knew she was on some sort of medication. She then recalled the pain medicine, the scene with Dr Michener and the tranquilizer.

"How do you feel?" Steve was standing over her, his distressed blue eyes ready to catch a lie.

"Drugged." She mumbled, lips feeling heavy.

He laughed half-heartedly. "You are."

"I know." She was quiet for a minute. "Sorry I freaked out on you there."

"Claudia, you _never _have to apologize for being scared. If I wouldn't have gotten thrown out of the hospital for it, I would've kicked his ass."

"Good." She grinned for the first time since everything had happened, and he smiled back at her. "Jinksy?"

"Yeah?"

"I wanna go home."

"Okay. We'll get you home... Claude?"

"Yeah?" she was starting to succum to the tranquilizer again, unsure of how long she'd stay awake.

"Can I hug you?"

She nodded, and he sat down on the edge of the hospital bed and hugged her for a long, long time until she fell asleep in his arms.

* * *

**Please review and let me know what you thought and also if you have any ideas! Don't fear, this is not the end of the story. :)**


	6. Part VI

**A thousand thanks to Chinagirl18 for her Beta reading awesomeness. **

**Trigger Warning for ED (this story doesn't deal with eating disorders, but may be triggering for those who are currently.)**

* * *

"I've never seen her like that before." Steve was talking with Abigail in the solarium of the B&B.

"Like what?"

"She wasn't... Claudia. It was like everything she is, her snarky manner, her guardedness, everything about her was different. She was so vulnerable and she was crying and screaming and... It was awful."

"That must have been very difficult for you."

"Yeah, but it had to have been a hell of a lot more difficult for her. When we got home this morning, she went up to her room and I haven't seen her since. I'm really worried about her."

"Should I go up and try to talk with her?"

"Yeah, maybe. Or maybe bring Myka with you. She just really needs people right now."

* * *

Later that day, Abigail walked up the stairs with a tray of tea and cookies. She balanced it in one hand and knocked on Claudia's door with the other.

"Yep?"

"It's Abigail. Can I come in?"

"Hang on a sec..." After a moment, she said, "Come in."

Abigail opened the door. Claudia was tapping away on her laptop, but Abigail guessed she had been crying from her bloodshot eyes and smeared mascara. She looked exhausted, her black eye drooping pitifully, the other eye with a dark circle underneath.

"I brought tea and cookies."

"You know the way to my heart!" she said, putting her hands to her chest dramatically and grinning. "Thanks." She grabbed the mug off the tray and took a long drink. "Mmm. Blackberry." Claudia looked up from her laptop. "Did you need something?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to talk about what happened."

"Nope, not really," she mumbled quickly, starting to tap on her keyboard again.

"Okay. Well, we're all here for you, Claudia. If you ever want to talk, I'm here."

"Yeah, thanks," the redhead said quickly, not looking at her.

Abigail left, closing the door behind her, and the girl stared into space, eyes wide and heart beating too fast. Her face and arms were tingling and her brain was running a million miles an hour. She wanted to scream or cry or just run until her body gave out, but all she could do was sit there and breathe in and out raggedly. Her ribs ached and she felt like she was going crazy.

Finally, she gained enough mental clarity to get herself to the bathroom. She was going to take a shower to try to calm down, but instead found herself over the toilet, throwing up. She held her ribs and moaned in pain, vaguely remembering that the doctor had said any sort of straining would cause pain in her broken ribs. Someone was holding her hair, but she couldn't look up. When she was finally done vomiting, she lifted her head and found Myka standing by her. The woman let go of her hair and gave her a small smile.

"Hey." She put a hand on her back. Claudia stiffened, then shook off Myka's hand and hurried out of the bathroom.

"Claude, are you okay?" Myka asked, following her as the redhead walked toward her bedroom.

"Yah, um, just not in the mood to be touched."

"Oh, okay. Sorry."

"No, it's fine it's just... nevermind."

"What happened?"

"The pain-killers I'm on for my concussion and ribs make me nauseous." That was at least mostly true. Claudia really didn't want to get into the whole 'I was having a panic attack from all the crazy-insane trauma I experienced on my last snag-and-bag' discussion.

"Right. Okay. Well, I hope you feel better," Myka said. Claudia mumbled a thank you, hurried into her room and shut the door.

* * *

Later, when darkness had settled in on the B&B, Myka heard soft crying coming from Claudia's room. She tried to leave her alone, but after a few minutes found herself knocking on Claudia's door.

"Yeah?"

"Can I come in?"

There was a long pause. "I guess." Myka walked in. Claudia was sitting on her bed, bloodshot eyes staring at the ceiling.

"Steve and Artie told me about your... thing."

Claudia laughed. It wasn't a happy or sweet laugh, but a broken, ragged, painful laugh that would've been better never uttered. "My thing, huh?" A tear slipped down her cheek and she rubbed it away angrily.

"Yeah. And I just wanted to let you know, I'm here. Whatever you need, I'm here."

"I really just need you guys to be normal. I need that security of my family teasing me and not treating me like I'm broken, even if I am," she said honestly.

"Okay. You've got it. Normal." She was about to leave, but went back over to the bed. "Does hugging count as normal?"

Claudia sat up and nodded, wrapping her thin arms around Myka's neck tightly.

Claudia sagged in her chair, head propped up on her arm on the table. Her hair was mussed, eyes sunken in with those ever-present dark circles underneath, the bruising on the left starting to fade. She was staring into the distance when Pete waved a fork in front of her face.

"Earth to Claudia. Do you read me?"

She glanced up. "Sorry. I was... distracted." She didn't know how much Pete knew about her little adventure.

"You want some peas?"

"No thanks."

She had scooped a minuscule amount of lasagna onto her plate fifteen minutes ago, and it still sat on her plate, slightly disassembled but still in its entirety.

"Let me guess, you spoiled your dinner with five cookies just like me?"

"Oh, yeah sure," she said half-heartedly. They all knew she had been home two days and the only thing she had had was about ten mugs of tea. Abigail, Pete, and Artie had all brought her plates of cookies or other baked goods, but they all sat in her room, growing stale. She felt bad, and almost made an attempt to eat the now-cold lasagna, but her stomach turned and she knew she probably couldn't keep it down if she tried. Her appetite had been nowhere to be found, along with her normal dark humor. And the random, intense attacks of nausea from the painkillers certainly didn't help anything.

Steve was staring at her with concern, and she made a face at him.

"So Artie, when can I go out on the field again?"

"Oh, um... I was thinking we'd wait until your ribs heal some more," he replied, surprised that she would want to go back out anytime soon.

"Oh, okay." She sighed, clearly disappointed.

Everyone finished eating and left, and Claudia helped Abigail clean up, almost in apology for not eating. She knew everyone was worried about her, but just couldn't do it tonight.

* * *

Steve awoke to soft but persistent knocking on the door.

"Come in," he murmured, still half-asleep.

"Hey, so I couldn't sleep and thought we should have a movie marathon," Claudia blurted out quickly.

He turned on the lamp on his nightstand and saw her face, white as a sheet and pleading with him not to ask questions.

"Sounds great," he said, getting up. He didn't mention her eyes, which were red from crying, or the fact that it was 3 am. He simply trudged down the stairs after his fellow agent and got comfortable on the couch.

"So what are we watching?" he asked, adjusting the pillows next to him.

"I was thinking Back to the Future I and II."

"Sounds great." He smiled.

Claudia set up the movie, and then sat down next to Steve. Throughout the next hour and a half, she shifted closer and closer until she finally fell asleep, head nestled on his chest, legs curled up and draped half over his, and arms thrown around him. When the movie was over, he decided not to try to get her up to bed. She hadn't slept in days, and awkward couch sleep was better than no sleep. He wished he knew how to talk to the redhead about all that had happened. She had become increasingly avoidant, and Steve knew at some point she would have to give. But until then, he would be there for her. Whatever she needed, he would do his best to take care of her, because she wasn't very good at taking care of herself. Soon, he became drowsy and fell asleep resting his chin on top of her head and arms around her.

* * *

**Well, what did you think? Thanks for reading! Please review and tell me any ideas you may have for the story. :)**


	7. Part VII

**This chapter is written from Claudia's point of view. Trigger warning for panic attacks, ED, and self harm. Yeah, this chapter's a treat. Many thanks to Chinagirl 18 for her mad beta reading skills!**

* * *

I was draped over my chair at the dinner table, chin resting on my hand, staring at my plate full of food. The tension in the room was almost unbearable. It was day 4 of being home, and I hadn't talked with anyone about being kidnapped or any part of the snag-and-bag in Wisconsin. I wasn't really sure which was making me not eat, the nausea from the pain-meds or the lack of appetite from the flashbacks and trauma and emotional distress... Yeah, all of that was a blast. I thought I probably had PTSD, but there's no way in hell I was telling anyone that.

"Claude?"

I looked up. "Yeah?"

"Are you finished?"

I looked at my untouched plate and nodded, grimacing. Steve stared at me for a moment, then picked up the offending plate and walked into the kitchen. I stalked up to my room, flipped open my laptop and started scrolling through Tumblr, not really looking at anything. I was just waiting for that knock.

After a few minutes, it came, along with a "Claudia?" from Steve. Huffing, I told him to come in. I was already wincing for the lecture I knew was about to start.

"How are you?"

"Fine."

He knew I was lying. Sighing heavily, he sat down on the chair next to my bed.

"Ugh, don't give me that sigh, Jinksy."

"You're not sleeping, you're not eating... I just..." He put his head in his hands.

"It's not my fault."

His head snapped up. "I've never, ever said it was your fault, Claudia."

"I know, but everyone is making me feel like it is."

He stood up, walked over to the bed and hugged me tightly.

"Ouch! Careful with the ribs, Jinksy."

"Sorry." He loosened his grip. "Hey, look at me. I care about you. A lot. And I'm worried about you. But I'm not mad at you, and I know none of this is your fault."

"Okay."

"But Claude?"

"Yeah?"

He sat back down. "You need to start eating. You're wasting away."

"And puke it up two minutes later? No thanks."

"Maybe you won't this time."

"I tried five times on Thursday, and three times yesterday, and every time I threw up. These painkillers they gave me make it impossible to keep anything down. And I'm not even hungry."

"How much longer are you on those pain meds?"

"Three more days."

"Please, can you just try?" he implored.

I sighed. "Fine."

"Great. I'll be right back." He left and was gone for about 10 minutes. I started scrolling through Tumblr again when he came back in, carrying a tray with chicken noodle soup and saltines, grinning.

"I'm not sick, Jinksy."

"I know, but this is your favorite food."

I smiled. "Yeah, it is." Putting aside my laptop, I took the tray and he sat down again.

"Really? You're going to watch me eat?"

"Oh, right, no." He got up and left, pausing at the door to wish me luck.

I sipped on the soup hungrily. Soon, I had consumed the entire bowl and all of the saltine crackers, and began happily typing away on my laptop. But about five minutes later, I raced toward the bathroom and my stomach betrayed me. My ribs ached with every heave.

When I could finally lift my head, Steve was there and offered me a cold washcloth. Gratefully, I accepted it and put it on my forehead.

"Sorry. I tried," I said sheepishly, refusing to cry.

"It's okay. I know you did."

I stood up and felt myself swaying.

"Whoah, steady." He grabbed my shoulders.

"What am I, a horse?"

He laughed and hung onto me as I walked back to my room.

"I don't know how much longer I can take this," I blurted out suddenly.

"Take what?"

"Sitting around here, doing nothing all day. I'm going crazy!"

"As soon as we get you off the painkillers, eating again, and once your ribs heal a little more, you'll be back in the field."

"Yeah, I guess... I really _am _going kind of crazy, though... You know... I've been having flashbacks."

"Of..."

"Of the Wisconsin thing... and... those months I lived with... him. And the psych ward..." I said haltingly.

"I'm sorry." His eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Yeah, well..." I pressed my lips together and tried to put on my brave face.

"I think you should talk to Abigail," he pronounced suddenly.

"Jinksy, I don't think so..." I started to excuse myself, smiling falsely.

"Claude, I'm serious. This is getting out of hand."

"I can't talk to her Steve, I just-just-" I began hyperventilating, and he pulled me into his arms.

"Shh, shh, Hey Claude, It's okay." He started stroking my back as I began to cry.

"I- I'm sorry. I'm a mess," I blubbered, nose running and saliva too thick.

"There's nothing to be sorry about. This is not your fault."

After I calmed down a bit, I said, "I think I'm gonna take a nap." Steve left, but I didn't go to sleep. I was just staring at the ceiling, letting the tears stream down my face.

* * *

"Abigail?" I asked in a small voice, rounding the corner into the living room.

"Yes?"

"Are you busy?"

"Oh, not really. Why?"

"I uh... See Jinksy said I should... So I thought I might..." I sighed. "Can I talk to you about what went down in Wisconsin?"

She smiled at me and patted the couch next to her. "Of course."

"Where should I start?"

"How about the beginning?"

"You mean when I started living there?"

She nodded. "Do you mind if I write this down?"

I shook my head and then cleared my throat. "I guess I started living there when I was sixteen. I had already been through plenty of foster parents, and never really found my place. A lot of them weren't the best parents. I got slapped around by some of them, too."

"So as a child you dealt with abuse?"

I nodded, not looking at her.

"What kind?"

"Verbal, physical, sexual, you name it." I kept my eyes on Abigail as she digested this information, wondering how she would react, but her face didn't change.

"Okay, so you moved in with the-"

"Petersons."

"-Petersons when you were sixteen, and what was it like?"

"The mom really wanted a daughter. She was nice enough. The dad worked a lot, and often didn't come home before I went to bed, so for the first couple of months, I barely saw him."

"What changed?"

"He lost his job. I think he got depressed and he started drinking a lot. Then he started hitting his wife. I heard her yelling and didn't know what to do, so I'd just pretend I was asleep. Then she started drinking to cope. She'd drink until she passed out and then her husband wouldn't hit her. But then he didn't have anyone to take out his anger on."

"So he turned on you?"

I took a shaky breath. "Yeah. He would wait until 9 or 10, after he had drank a few beers, and then he'd hit me, and...stuff."

"Stuff?"

I looked down. "There was sexual abuse there too."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, not right now."

"Okay. Are you still alright to talk?"

"Yep. Fire away," I said, putting on my tough-girl expression.

"What kinds of injuries did you sustain while you were in the Petersons' home?"

"Bruised ribs, arms... Bruises everywhere... Black eyes... One time he broke my wrist."

"How did that happen?"

"He was holding my arm down and I was fighting him, so he hit my wrist against the table really hard."

"I see. How did you explain that?" She had been scribbling the whole time.

"I told the doctor I fell off my bike. Mrs. Peterson brought me in. Besides that, a bruised neck from when he tried to strangle me, and a hell of a lot of cigarette burns."

"What kinds of emotions are brought up by talking about all of this?"

"I guess I have a lot of anger. At Mr. Peterson. And at the Feds for placing me in that crap-hole."

"That's very understandable."

"Well, good. At least it's understandable that I'm so screwed up," I said with a sarcastic smile.

"How do you think you coped while you were in the home?"

I shook my head and shrugged. "Not very well. I went a little crazy."

"Meaning?"

"Well, obviously I got kind of hopeless. I, uh... started..." I closed my eyes.

"Started...?" Abigail asked gently.

"Cutting. I was cutting for a while," the words tumbled out.

"And... Are you still cutting?"

"No. Hell no," I said a bit defensively.

"Okay," she said, putting her hands up. "I was just asking. What made you stop?"

"I don't know. I guess after being here a year I didn't feel the need to. For the first time since I was a little kid, I had a family who loved me and cared about me. And I stopped having urges to do that anymore."

"That's really nice."

"Yeah. It's good to feel like you belong, you know?"

She nodded. We continued the conversation for a while longer, talking about my not sleeping, nightmares, nausea, and lack of appetite, and eventually I returned to my room to try to sleep. There were usually fewer nightmares if I slept during the day. I felt like the weight on my chest was a bit lighter after talking with Abigail, and thought maybe I'd talk with her again sometime.

I had actually gotten 3 hours of quality sleep when a nightmare woke me in the late afternoon. Breathing shakily, I pushed back the covers with my sweaty palms, got up, and walked to the bathroom. I had to rest my hand on the wall as I went. My not eating was quickly catching up with me, and black dots started swarming into my vision. I stopped for a few moments, and the darkness receded.

* * *

In the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face, and then hugged my arms around myself protectively. My anxiety began to increase and I slid down the wall to sit on the floor, feeling out of control. I needed to escape from the situation but I was trapped. My heart pounded in my ears, and my breath was coming in coughs and chokes.

"Claudia?" Steve asked from outside the bathroom. "Claude, you okay?"

"Yeah, um, fine." My voice was barely recognizable. It sounded more like the Claudia in the hospital boiler room, breathy and at least two octaves higher than normal.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Can you open the door?"

"Um..."

"Please let me in, Claude."

After a moment, I stood and opened the door, trying to get around him, but he stopped me with his hand. The black spots came and went like a tide.

"Hey, what happened?"

"Nothing. I'm fine," I said, scrubbing at my face. I knew my scratchy voice and quick breathing had already given me away.

"Bullshit."

"...I had a panic attack," I said after a moment, crossing my arms around my ribs defensively.

"Do you know what triggered it?"

"Nightmares."

"Are you... okay?"

"Yeah, about as okay as I should be... I've been having a lot of those lately."

He looked down, unsure of how to handle this and I took the opportunity to disappear.

"Look, I don't really want to talk about this." I slipped around him and quickly made my way down the hallway.

"Claude-" he called after me, but I shut the door.

* * *

**What did you think? Don't worry, the next chapter will be less depressing. **


	8. Part VIII

**Hello lovely people! This is my last installment of this story. :( But all good things must come to an end. Thanks again to Chinagirl18 and all of her wonderful beta reading throughout this story!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Warehouse 13 or any of its characters, only this story.**

* * *

(Steve's point of view.)

"Irene, I truly feel like the best thing for Claudia at this point is either for her to discontinue as a Warehouse agent or for us to intervene with an artifact," Abigail was saying.

Mrs. Frederick sighed. "I understand what you are saying."

I walked in on the conversation. "Mrs. Frederick, I just got through talking with Claudia. She just had another panic attack and she still isn't eating."

"Agent Jinks, good of you to join us. Then you also believe we need artifact intervention in order to keep Agent Donovan as a member of our team?"

"I do."

"Have you considered perhaps that she would be better suited to a job without so much stress, something less demanding?"

"Not for a second."

"And why, may I ask, is that?"

"One, Claudia is future caretaker. The Warehouse chose her, and there's nothing any of us can do about that. Two, we need Claudia as a part of our team. Three, Claudia needs us as her family. She doesn't have anyone else. Isn't that enough reason for you?"

I almost thought I saw a smile on Mrs. Frederick's face. "Yes, it is. But I wanted to be sure you knew that this was the best option. Alright, I will have Agent Neilson start researching what may be of use to us."

* * *

It had been a week since Claudia arrived home, and she was not well. Though the nausea from her pain meds had gone away since she had stopped taking them, her pain from her broken ribs and concussion had ramped it up again. She had laid in bed all day, too pale and too quiet, not even passing the time on her laptop. She wasn't eating, sleeping, or talking, and I was so, so worried. I wasn't sure how long her tiny body could hold up under these conditions.

"Hey Claude, how about going for a walk?" I asked, walking through her open bedroom door. A bit too late I realized that there were tears rolling down her cheeks. "Hey, what's wrong?"

She shrugged her shoulders, face contorting, and I quickly sat down on the bed next to her, hugging her. The fact that I could feel her ribs and spine so easily scared the hell out of me, but I tried not to think about it.

"Did you have another panic attack?"

She nodded into my shoulder, uttering, "A few more."

Before I knew what was happening, tears were rolling down my own cheeks. I just wanted- no,needed my friend- best friend- to be okay. I had always cared about Claudia, but had never realized how much. I needed her just like she needed me. Backing up so I could look her in the face, I said, "Claude, we're looking into artifacts that could help with all this. Are you okay with that?"

"Really? Um, yeah I guess it's fine. I mean, I don't really want to be having panic attacks or not be eating or be an emotional basket case all of the time or..." She let her rambling fade. "Have you found anything yet?"

"Not yet."

She looked down, and I could tell she was close to falling apart.

"Hey, we're going to find something. And things will get better. I know they will."

She looked up and took a deep breath. "Okay."

"So, would you want to take a walk?"

"Well, uh... I don't think I would hold up very well."

My heart pangs. "Okay. Do you need anything?"

"Nah, I'm good."

"What if I whipped you up some pancakes?"

"I'm not really hungry."

I tried not to look concerned as I left. I wanted to make her the pancakes, anyway. No doubt, she wouldn't eat them, but I had to try.

Sure enough, when I returned with the steaming stack of flapjacks, she smiled and thanked me, but it didn't really reach her eyes. She cut them up and pushed them around her plate, not eating anything. Later, I took the plate away and went back to the Warehouse. We had to find something to help her before it was too late.

* * *

A quick knock awoke Claudia from her sleep one morning a week and a half after the happenings in Wisconsin.

"Claude, wake up!" Pete exclaimed, bounding through the door. I followed, only slightly less excited.

"What the hell, Pete? Do you realize how hard it is for me to get sleep?" Claudia asked grouchily.

"This is worth it, Claude, I promise," I said from behind Pete, who was grinning broadly.

"Well, tell me!"

"We found artifacts that will help you."

Her eyes widened. "Which ones?"

"One is a worry stone from Ancient Greece. All you have to do is rub it when you're worried or feel anxiety coming on, and it should eradicate your panic attacks."

"Sick! What else?"

"Joseph Stalin's sleeping mask, for nights without nightmares."

"Nice, very nice."

"Stay away from the vodka, though."

She laughed.

"A knife from the Appalachian mountains, to 'cut the pain.'" Pete added, making air quotes.

"Clever."

"And finally, Julia Child's spatula, which increases appetite."

"Sweet!"

Claudia reached out her arms and I walked over to her bed and hugged her. "What would I do without you, Steve?"

"Hey, I helped too!" Pete grumbled.

"C'mere Pete," she said, pulling him into the hug. "Thanks guys."

"It will be good to have you back on the team, Agent Donovan." Mrs. Frederick spoke suddenly from behind them, causing all three to jump. A tiny smile crinkled the woman's eyes. "I must admit my relief at finding artifacts that can help you. However, there are a few conditions."

"What kind of conditions?"

"It is not my desire, nor the desire of the regents that self-medicating with artifacts becomes a habit," she said sternly.

"Of course not." I said, and Claudia nodded.

"So we'd like you to continue to talk with Abigail at least once a week to keep her informed of your state, and only use the artifacts as long as is necessary."

"Sure, that sounds reasonable."

"And you'll need to wait until you're sleeping and eating normally again before you go back out in the field."

"Fair enough."

"It will be good to have you back."

"Thanks, Mrs. Frederick."

Mrs. Frederick nodded and left.

"Well, I'm thinking we might need to try out the knife and Julia Child's spatula," Claudia said, a grin lighting her face in a way I hadn't seen in what seemed like forever. I handed her two static bags labeled with the artifacts' names and purposes, and she opened them one at a time, taking out the kitchen utensils and staring at them.

"Well?"

She squinted at them for a moment, and then her eyes widened. "Hey, my headache went away!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, and I need something with butter. Now," she said seriously.

I laughed and went downstairs to make her something. She was pretty weak from lack of nutrition, and hadn't been out of her bed besides trips to the bathroom.

Half an hour later, I arrived in her room carrying a tray with caramelized sweet potatoes and onions, bratwurst, a roll, a plate of cookies, a beer for her, and a beer for me.

"Geez Jinksy, you didn't have to go to all that trouble."

"I wanted to. I care about you a lot Claudia."

"Thanks."

"I'm so glad my BFFEWYLION is going to be okay."

"You've never called me that before," she intoned, eyes wide.

"Well you are." I smiled at her as I gave her the tray and took my beer. "Cheers."

We clinked our bottles together and she ate her meal happily, chattering about getting to hunt artifacts again soon.

* * *

It had been a month since Claudia's run-in with her foster-father and she was finally returning to her former self. The color had returned to her face, her eyes had their sparkle back, and she was deadpanning just like old times. I still thought she was too thin, but she was eating again, and kept saying, "Lay off it, poopypants. I'm fine." She hadn't had to use the worry stone or Julia Child's spatula in a week, and was weaning herself off the Appalachian knife for her concussion.

Artie came in one morning announcing we had a ping, and Claudia and I would be going to New Mexico for a snag-and-bag. My counterpart shrieked excitedly.

"When do we leave?"

"As soon as you pack, which, because you're you, I'm sure will take hours."

"HA, think again, Mcgrumpypants!" She ran upstairs and came downstairs moments later with a packed leather suitcase.

"Eager to leave, are we?" Artie asked.

"Hells yeah. I've been dying to go on a ping this whole time!"

She tapped her foot impatiently as I packed, but her enthusiasm was contagious, and as we drove to the airport, we were both smiling and jamming to the Runaways. It was good to have her back.

Fin.

* * *

**Well, what did you think? Thanks for reading, and consider checking out some of my other stories! **

**~Addy**


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